Asmodean
by Durelin
Summary: A closer look at one of the most curious of the Forsaken, detailing some of his history, and giving a little more insight into his fall into darkness. Will consist of at least three chapters, possibly more. I do not claim Asmodean, Mierin, etc. as my own.
1. Fame

**Chapter I**

_**Fame**_

"A young woman is here to see you, Master Joar," the chamberlain announced in a voice that was barely short of amusement, making it clear that he was not at all surprised at his master's caller, nor curious as to whom she was. He had served Joar Addam Nessosin for nearly six years, and had become accustomed to the number of female visitors he had to escort in regularly. And he was used to the looks he received in return from his master: always overdone, with more than just a dramatic pretense of annoyance at being disturbed. Joar spent hours alone, and often seemed to jump like a child caught doing something he or she should not have been when the chamberlain knocked on his door, either playing or composing his music, or, as the servant believed, really doing something that he should not – or, at least, something he should not be _caught_ doing. Today was one of those days when it appeared he had been up to something, as he was caught quickly adjusting his tight black breeches and long grey coat.

"Let her in," said the man, who reclined on a long couch of velvet with satin pillows and silk sheets of bright colors, which were embroidered to death and draped over both arms, extending the full length of the couch with their ends trailing to the ground. Everything in the room screamed extravagance almost beyond comfort, though the bed, and the numerous couches and chairs in the room, all looked slightly disheveled. Either the chambermaid had been dismissed again, or she had spent the night in that unmade bed, as well, and had yet to gather up the courage to face her master again.

A woman dressed in a deep purple that came close to matching the couch entered Joar Addam's chamber, and greeted him with a twist of her lips that the man observed to be a clumsy attempt at a sultry smile. He smiled back, but only out of amusement. This girl had only been after him for a few weeks, and he was not sure if he was done playing with her yet. She was quite a bit more fun than some of the others; she was considerably bolder, while still equally as foolish. Her body was perhaps a bit lacking compared to some of the others who tittered over him these days, but recently he had not been looking so much for a pair of breasts as he had been for something with a great deal more uses. He made no effort to be discreet as he examined her, letting his eyes dwell longer on her more accentuated features merely for show. When they finally traveled back up to her face, he was pleased to see that it was a little redder than before. They were never as confident as they appeared.

"It is such a pleasure to see you again, Lady Arris," he said, still sprawled comfortably on his couch. He watched her eyes flit over his relaxed form, which paused briefly to examine closer what was clearly a protrusion at his groin. She was obviously flushed now, though she did a fair job of hiding it in her voice.

"As it is to see you, Master Joar, which is why I came." Her lips barely parted as she spoke, but her words were clear. It irked Joar that she formed her words in that way, and he wished that he could grimace after having his gaze drawn to her mouth. Remembering many a better pair of lips, he kept his voice as warmly fluid as before.

"I would think you were much too busy a woman to make calls purely out of pleasure."

"I am always able to make exceptions," Arris responded with a smile that sent more messages to the man before her than lifting her skirts ever would.

Joar laughed slightly as he looked away. This girl was quite bold, and clearly performed well under pressure. It had taken a bit of colour in her cheeks to get her appearance to reflect what she had in mind, and Joar was glad to see that he had been so successful in placing it there. But he knew he would grow tired of any games quickly. These noble ladies of Paaran Disen never could cease in playing every social interaction as a political dance.

"Take off your dress then," he said simply, drawing his eyes back to her with a smile playing on his lips. He titled his head to the side to gaze at her as he sat up. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

"I…you…"

Joar Addam watched as she spluttered and gasped, gaping at him and pulling her skirts to her, her knuckles turning white under her grip. Her mouth hung open for several moments, showing the true woman that lay beneath every mask she had ever donned at a ball. She was simply a girl who wore a tad too much powder on her face and carried herself as someone much more important than she really was. If there was any real political genius to her, her choice of playing her hand as a seductress was not a wise one. Her game was over, at least with him. The lord exploded with laughter.

"My dear Arris," he began after a few moments, grinning at her, and letting his hand lazily reach for a cup of wine set on the small table at the side of the couch. After taking a few sips, and stifling a few more giggles, he continued, "That act really doesn't suit you, you know. Come now, you're much too smart for that." The smile he flashed at her did wonders. She turned an even brighter red than before. "If you want information out of me, you need but ask. And, of course, I would be happy to oblige concerning any other reasons you might be here." Having placed his wine goblet carefully back down on the end table as he spoke, he jumped up from his reclining position and headed toward the fireplace with his back to Arris, where he knelt to pluck a few strings on his harp. He glanced behind him at the woman. "But please, a slut's wink does no good to your pretty little face."

Arris smiled meekly back at him, finally releasing her hold on her skirts. She was beginning to relax, and Joar kept his smiles soft. "Please, sit" he waved his hand carelessly behind him as he turned back to his instrument. "I will play for you."

Of course the music of Joar Addam Nessosin was somewhat legendary in those days. He was an excellent composer: no one really denied that. But no one was anywhere near bold enough to say that he was of the greatest of his Age. When those with a fine ear heard him play, or heard his compositions played by others who were masters of their instruments, they would recall it as a pleasurable experience. But very rarely did anyone say that the music reached into their very soul and left them changed. It seemed that this kind of metaphorical language had to be associated with their music in order for a composer to be considered one of the greatest. This left Master Joar Addam with much to be desired. To this man, whose ambition was greater even than his creativity, there was only one goal that would leave him satisfied: to be the greatest. It was all well and good that he could seduce any woman he chose using only his handsome features and his music, but he quickly grew bored.

Lady Arris did not leave Joar's quarters until the next morning, but once again he was left alone to stare at his instruments, several untouched now for many months. His harp he had not yet abandoned, nor one of his flutes. But the rest: the shama, corea, balfone, and obaen, they had been silenced by the crowds. He had refused to perform at his last concert, leaving the city of Deimor in an uproar due to his somehow insulting the governor there by declining the invitation. His creativity had not left him: the stacks of papers covered in lines and notes on his desk were proof of this. What was gone was his once fervent desire to please people. He used to relish in the smiles and the wistful looks that his songs could bring to the faces of thousands. But now, though hundreds would still be glad to attend one of his concerts, their simple pleasure was nowhere near enough.

Joar Addam was a rich man, and had been used to this life of luxury since his childhood. He had not been born into a noble family, nor a family of any wealth, but his fame was quick to come. He had been a child prodigy, and by the time he was fifteen, his own compositions were played all over the world. The expectations for him had been great, but he had stopped short of fulfilling them. Other men and women had risen in his place, leaving him as second rate. No pleasures, no amount of riches in the world would ever be enough to quench the rage that he felt due to being snubbed by fame. It was the greatest discomfort that he was not as recognized as he felt that he should be, and so he viewed his life as ruined, and was prepared to do anything to change it. He believed it necessary that he attain the kind of fame required to make his music immortal, knowing how fleeting life was, and how quick death could come, leaving both his body and all memories of his name to rot.


	2. Immortality

**Chapter II**

_**Immortality**_

Joar Addam Nessosin knew what was best for him, and it was all he would ever care about. Wherever he had the best chance to succeed, whatever he had to do, he would do it. In a way, the man liked the easy way out. In other ways, he was simply cunning and violently ambitious. He avoided any pain to himself at all cost, and he seemed to place no trust in anyone or anything other than himself. What made him so smart was that, even when it came to his own plans, he was prepared to abandon or change any at will to better fit his purpose. Pride was strong in him – he was still an arrogant man – but he was no proud general whose honor kept him from turning his back on someone or something. Anyone who allied themselves with the man was cautious, and made sure there was something in the matter for him that would be enough to insure his constancy, at least to a degree.

It quickly became that Joar Addam saw no reason for him to perform his music, as there seemed to be nothing in it for him. There was no pleasure any more, for he knew that there were others that the world would rather listen to. His name was not known as widely as it should, and so he began to abandon his music completely. He dabbled in politics only briefly, wasting time playing games with nobles, and particularly noblewomen. He was caught in a scandal or two that amused him, but still his fame was little. Even the fact that he was of a special breed of his day was not enough for him. He was special, when the world was full of powerful men and women who changed it daily, learning far beyond what would ever be imagined thousands of years into the future, and producing technology and developing skills that could do all but raise the dead, though at times it seemed they were close even to that. This world was one built by Aes Sedai, and kept alive by Aes Sedai – all healers were Aes Sedai; Aes Sedai enriched the world, improving mining and farming; and the world's technology was most often developed from the One Power itself. In this world, Joar Addam was set apart from many, because he was Aes Sedai, a man who could channel, who could reach out and harness the One Power to use it as he willed. Of course there were limits to his power, as there were to anyone who could use the Source. But constantly, these boundaries were broken, and Aes Sedai continued to try and breach every barrier they could, desiring a power that seemed as if it could be endless. Even those who wished to use the Power in the name of the Light, for progress, to help others – even they often lost their way. And Joar Addam was always a self-serving man.

He grabbed hold of _saidin_, the male half of the One Power, and held on to it, letting its power rush through them, and leaving him feeling content, though there was an edge of wariness that he could barely sense somewhere outside the calm and focus that he felt in seizing the Power. He watched the woman closely as she paced slightly, keeping his appearance relaxed, but always prepared to reach out with a shield, either to protect himself, or to slide between the woman and the Source so that she could not reach it. Joar doubted that he would manage the latter, but he was always prepared. He was strong in the Power, but as ever, there were others who were extremely strong as well, making him no one special. And he knew almost for a fact that this woman was stronger. He had observed this on many an occasion. Lucky for him, they had only been working together.

"Surely you see that there is much in this for you, Joar." She had finally stopped pacing, and she faced him with cold black eyes, her face hard as stone. The ice in her eyes was often not too short of fury, and today they surely burned. Any man would have been a fool to anger her, but Joar Addam had always thought Lews Therin to be one.

"He is a fool, Mierin, forget him. There are enough playthings in this world. I do not see any gain from this."

"Then you are a fool, Joar Addam!" She snapped at him, her voice tight. It seemed difficult for her to keep from exploding on him, and rage contorted her face. She was usually a gorgeous woman, and arguably one of the most beautiful of the Age. Joar personally preferred a woman with more to her, but he could not help but admire her milky complexion sharply contrasted with her dark hair and eyes, her hair darker even than his own and flowing as gracefully as her willowy body did. The white gown she wore was fairly modest, but it did wonders to accentuating her features, particularly the softness of her face. Most men would think Lews Therin was twice a fool to reject such a beauty. Though as Joar Addam watched the woman fight with her anger, and saw something in her eyes that made him tense up, expecting her to lash out with the One Power at any moment, he realized that perhaps Telamon was not so foolish after all.

Quickly Mierin regained an icy expression of calm, and spoke with a voice sharp as steel. "Lews Therin must pay for his arrogance. He is praised, and his pride only grows." She suddenly switched the focus to Lews Therin's private life, seemingly in mid-thought. The subject was the real reason why she was there. "That blonde harlot has neither the brains nor the strength, to be useful to such a man. What fool would choose her?"

She eyed Joar for a moment, and he simply stared back, knowing that the woman's tirade was nowhere near complete. Her pause was but one calm in the storm, and the man knew that remaining silent could do wonders. She would wear herself out in time, and storm out without another thought concerning him. He preferred it that way. She could bother herself over Lews Therin Telamon all she wanted. There was no reason for him to get involved. He was feeling slightly more relaxed when she shocked him with a question.

"You think she's beautiful, don't you? You would have picked her as well?"

A woman's jealousy was fearsome, and if the old saying could ever be true, Mierin would have been the deepest, darkest green there ever were. The sneer on her face was of pure disgust at the thought of any man, particularly Lews Therin, her former love, thinking that any woman at all was even decent looking beside herself. Mierin Eronaile clearly still loved Lews Therin, in her way, and she had recently shown this love to be an obsession. She had already made public accusations at Ilyena Moerelle Dalisar, called Sunhair, who her 'lost love' had married. She blamed the woman for her loss of him, loathing her with a passion, and would never give up claiming what she believed to be hers.

Joar Addam could not help but smile slightly. "There are many pretty faces in this world, Mierin."

The woman fumed, and he regretted his words, though only slightly. It was far too easy to play on a woman's jealousy, and it surely amused him. That would be his last prodding of her, though, as he had no desire to cause himself any pain purely for the sake of enjoyment. Lucky for him, she turned away. He was glad that her rage was still decidedly more focused on Lews Therin and his golden haired wife. Mierin's body swayed in a way that most men found hypnotizing as she made her way to the fireplace, seemingly inspecting Joar's harp that was propped up in its usual place beside the hearth.

"Why is it that your music has been silenced, Joar?"

The man sat up and adjusted himself on the couch, clearly growing uncomfortable. She turned back to him and smiled at him much as he had only moments before. And just as he had done to her, she had hit him where it hurt. "I have grown tired of it, much as any man should grow tired of those pretty faces."

Her eyes narrowed at him faintly, and though Joar had not thought it possible, they seemed to grow even chiller. He all but held his breath as he watched her. She appeared almost to be stalking him, watching him as prey, moving slowly and fluidly like a cat, and waiting for the right moment to strike. He still felt only somewhat prepared, clutching Isaidin/I firmly. Though it was very possible that she had already reached for Isaidar/I. "The crowd will always cheer for more, you know that. Why not please them?" Mierin's words did not match her tone. They seemed joking, but her voice was hard and firm, almost to the point of being flat, as if all emotion had been packed down tightly so it could not escape her. It was certain that her rage had not dissipated an inch.

Joar Addam simply looked at her, and then offered wine, ignoring her question. It was perhaps a risky move to do so, but he could feel his own anger rising up in him. He channeled thin threads of Air to a table against the right wall, and poured wine from a silver pitcher into a matching goblet, and then carried it over to the woman. She dismissed it with a wave of her hand, and so he brought it to himself, and soon was sipping on it lightly. It did nothing to please her that he always played the part of a gentleman. She knew him, and his ways. Mierin of course played many more games than the composer ever would, but she never did have patience for others'.

"It is unfortunate that the world does not recognize you for who you are, Joar Addam Nessosin. Indeed, it is sad that your name will be lost, with everything else."

"Time destroys all," he said simply, forcing himself to sound not at all bothered by this. It had been a thought in his mind for years now, and he loathed it. He refused to believe that it was true, though everything seemed only to prove it so. He constantly searched for opposition to it, but had found nothing: nothing, until a previous visit from this woman, who he had once worked with. For a short time he had pursued aiding in studies done by other channelers when he took up residence in the capital city of Paaran Disen, home of the Hall of Servants, the governing structure of all Aes Sedai. He had been born in a small port city called Shorelle, but the greatness and wealth in such grand cities as Paaran Disen quickly became much more desirable to him. In one of his many attempts to earn himself a new name, and one much more renowned than that of a composer and musician, Joar Addam had dedicated himself briefly to working on studies of the One Power, and furthering and improving its uses. This had always been Mierin's field of work, and for a short time they worked together on a project. But that had been a long time ago, and she had been very busy since then. She had visited him several times recently, and once decades ago, to bring him news.

"No, not time. Time can be overcome. Look at it; the Wheel. The Ages come and pass, time ever flowing and ever fluid, weaving a pattern, each time the same, but with different components, and changed by few. And look at what we have done, Joar, look! We have touched, we have bore into the Pattern itself! We, as Aes Sedai."

Mierin's expression had been growing more and more feverish as she spoke, and the usual cold void of her dark eyes was replaced by a glow of excitement, and what Joar Addam observed to be a kind of lust. She had been quite busy. Without thinking, he channeled a weave of Air again, and placed his cup down on the table beside the couch, his eyes glued to hers, trying in vain to dig into them and see what was whirling through her mind at that moment. Her apprehension seemed as madness to him.

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, Mierin. If you disturb the pattern it will set time itself off balance, making you only more a slave to it, as it will be beyond the control of anyone or anything."

The woman laughed now, and made it clear that she was laughing at him and not simply at his words or his ideas. She had always been more than prepared to be cruel, though he had noticed lately that she had made it more of a habit. Lews Therin had changed her, if nothing else had, though Joar believed such changes would have been inevitable, whether Telamon had even existed or not. A woman with such a deep love for power would never have held on to a heart with any ounce of compassion in it. She would have torn it out herself after too long. Perhaps it was best that it had been done for her.

"You men are all fools; you cannot see what is right before you. I told you to look, now look again. Look at the world around you. You have heard the many rumours, haven't you? You have seen the affects? And I have already told you of our discovery. Surely you can see it for yourself."

"I have heard many things, and one cannot help but see that the world itself has been changing; that I know. And I know that only a fool would follow Lews Therin in such a time. I have no desire to support the man in any way. And I have no desire nor any need to serve anyone but myself. This is no time to take sides and form allegiances, amidst revolution and turmoil."

Mierin smirked, seeming amused, and making show of knowing something that he did not. That smile suited her too well, and Joar Addam's eyes were drawn to her full lips. In a way, he thought it a shame that there was nothing more to that woman than her beauty to him. That had rarely stopped him from indulging in a variety of desires before, with other women, but he knew that this one was untouchable; and really, he knew that he would only truly have any lust for her if he had fallen completely into madness. She knew it was that way, as well, for many men.

"The Shadow overcomes time; the Shadow can destroy time. The pattern itself was required to hold Shai'tan, its bringer."

It was his turn to eye her with suspicion and some confusion. He knew what she was saying, but what it meant, what that look in her eyes told him; he thought it all a figment of his imagination. It was no surprise to anyone that the Dark One had touched the world, and the Shadow had spread over all, changing the world and its people forever. All had seen that Shai'tan was already calling many to his side, as Friends of the Dark gathered together, and both convinced and coerced others into joining them in pledging their lives and their very souls to the Shadow. Many Aes Sedai had already turned, much to the shock of thousands who had looked to them for protection and continued progress. The world had so changed, and few could deny that it would only continue to darken. But surely she had not…

"Have you not heard Shai'tan's call, Joar Addam Nessosin?"

She had. Had Lews Therin been the final push into the Shadow? She had loved the power she gained from being with him, and when it was all lost, she could not bear it. That had been enough to send Mierin Eronaile to the Dark One. The lust that many Aes Sedai had within them, that drove them to desire the power they knew they felt only a fraction of in their ability to channel the One Power, was more than enough to bring them directly to Shayol Ghul, the land that Shai'tan had destroyed for himself, where the Pattern was so thin that his darkness could be felt directly by anyone and anything. It seemed true that the Dark One could indeed destroy the Wheel of Time, and alter it in any way he willed. He had been imprisoned in the very Pattern itself, and even that seemingly could not hold him for long, even if but for the folly of men. He had existed since the beginning of time, and even before it, though his touch had not been felt in any Age remembered, imprisoned by the Creator at the beginning. Surely now it would not be forgotten. Such was power – immortality. And that was why thoughts of Shai'tan had plagued Joar Addam for some time now. He should not have been surprised that Mierin expected this, just as he should not have found it a shock that she had pledged herself to the Dark One, but in both cases, he was caught off-guard.

Joar Addam gave up on any charades and sat hunched over on his couch, running a nervous hand through his thick dark hair, which stood up messily in every direction. His voice almost shook, though he kept it level. "You know I have heard it, Mierin. You know I cannot ignore it."

"Do not," the woman replied simply, though she knew he did not need the command.


End file.
